


I'm Yours #IneffableValentines2020 prompt 28

by GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge)



Series: Ineffable Valentines 2020 [28]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: #ineffableValentines2020, Alpha/Omega, Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Consensual Non-Consent, Consensual Sex, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Demonic Possession, Gay Sex, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Valentines (Good Omens), Ineffable Valentines 2020 (Good Omens), Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Mention Of Homophobia, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Oral Sex, Possession, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Restraints, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Sex, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), Vaginal Sex, Valentines, Worried Crowley (Good Omens), ineffable valentines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22794568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapheapchallenge/pseuds/GayDemonicDisaster
Summary: An angel and a demon fall in love, and an angel yearns for something more intense from his demon, who happily obliges, with unintended consequences.includes CONSENSUAL "non consent" play.CW, mention of someone hurling homophobic abuse (but not what he said), Crowley shuts it down rapidly.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Valentines 2020 [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618783
Comments: 46
Kudos: 249
Collections: Ineffable Valentines 2020, Top Crowley Library





	I'm Yours #IneffableValentines2020 prompt 28

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miele_Petite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miele_Petite/gifts).



Aziraphale was more perspicacious than most people gave him credit for, even Crowley. He had an ethos of see much, say little. And there were many things he’d noticed about Crowley over the years that he’d never dream of mentioning to anyone, let alone the demon. He noticed little things, the things that brought a secret millimetre of smile to the corner of Crowley’s lips when he thought no one was looking, to the things that made him squirm on the inside, the topics that he avoided and skirted around, or used hedged words to evade, to redirect and skip past.

He noted the little physical quirks and traits that were so uniquely Crowley – little tics that betrayed the inner workings of Crowley’s emotions were so familiar to the angel after thousands of years that he may as well have written them in ink on his skin or proclaimed them from a mountaintop. Interpreting the deeper meaning of some of these, however, was not always so simple, and Aziraphale, knowingly or not, either occasionally missed the mark, misinterpreted the underlying depth or nuance, or wilfully chose to ignore and deny when he thought the truth could be harmful for both of them to accept.

A prime example being the thousand and one ways in which he saw Crowley secretly declare his love for the angel. Aziraphale studiously ignored these, as that way lay madness. While their respective head offices watched, judged, and would happily play jury and executioner for such crimes, Aziraphale was forced to repudiate the fact that the demon might harbour anything as intense as love for him. No. it was friendship at best. Safer that way. Demons can’t love, of course not. Believe what they told you. Utter nonsense. Balderdash. Poppycock. Ignore the burning aura of sheer adoration that washed over him whenever he was in Crowley’s presence, which fed into his own being like so many shots of amber gold whisky down his throat, with the same sweet burn over his soul that warmed and filled him. Literally leaving him drunk on love.

But in the darkness of his solitude, in stolen moments alone, Aziraphale recounted all of those moments in his head, and basked in the stored up memories of the sheer overwhelming love that Crowley filled him with, and pleasured himself to the thoughts, chasing his guilt away with excuses, then pushing it from his mind again, at least until the feelings overwhelmed him and he succumbed once more.

But part of what really got him going was the feeling of protective possessiveness that Crowley exhibited toward him. It was subtle but a constant reassurance. His habit of circling the angel whenever he could, covering his back, wary eyes always on the lookout for danger, and occasionally raking down his body in lustful appreciation of his form.

Whenever they were around other people, especially new people, Crowley was on edge, watchful of them, seeking reassurance that Aziraphale was ok. “Are you comfortable, Angel? Shall I leave?” And before leaving Aziraphale alone in company, he’d give everyone a look that said _“I got your names, I got your asses, anything happens to this angel and you’re gonna need new kneecaps.”_

There had been subtle little incidents too, where perhaps a customer had been in the shop, flirting a little too hard with Aziraphale, who ignored it as always, as if in blissful ignorance, and if Crowley was present, he’d be watching them fiercely, his eyes burning in a 1000-watt gaze even from behind his shades, until the interloper became gradually more and more uncomfortable and fled.

Then the not so subtle incident when a homophobe had seen them ambling back down the street one night and begun yelling abuse. Crowley had spun around, snake-bite quick, and grabbed the man with one fist in his shirt, pinned him to the nearest wall with superhuman strength then delivered a brutally fast punch to the jaw followed by an equally savage kneecap to the bollocks and left the bigot curled up whimpering on the pavement.

“Really, Crowley,'' Aziraphale had admonished him afterwards. “You shouldn’t hurt humans that way.” The demon had growled deep in his chest (and that sound had left a peculiar quivering feeling pooling deep in Aziraphale’s groin), before Crowley spoke:

“He’d done it before, Angel. Worse. I could see it in his mind. He’s hospitalised people, Aziraphale, and he was gearing up to do it to you. Frankly he deserved worse.” Then there had been the ever so light, ever so brief, comforting touch of Crowley’s hand to the small of his back as they walked away, just a split second, before Crowley remembered himself and withdrew. Aziraphale let go of a small breath he didn’t realise he had been holding.

Then after the holy water, after the hellfire, after the narrow escape and stress of a plan that neither was one hundred percent certain was going to work, they’d laughed out the stress on the park bench, relief flooding through their bodies that the other had pulled it off, had survived. They’d sat across from each other at the Ritz and all they could think, screaming with relief in their own respective heads was _thank someone they’re safe, they’re alive, we made it._ And they were giddy on the high of a near miss with complete and total annihilation as much as with the champagne.

Aziraphale gazed at the beautiful demon sitting there, and felt a surge of such overwhelming love, aching to reach out to him, to only touch his hand again, to confirm that he was really real, was _there_ , was truly _safe_. It was nonsense of course, they’d held hands only a short while before as they swapped back on the park bench, but the angel just craved the comfort of contact that had been denied him.

So he reached across the table and rested his hand on Crowley’s. His own little bit of gentle possession. A mere mental whisper of _you’re mine? If you want me? Please tell me you’re ok with this, your whole body language tells me you do, but I need to_ **_hear_ ** _it, please?_

And, somebody bless him, Crowley understood. He turned his hand palm upward on the table under Aziraphale’s, and gently twined his fingers together with the angel’s, then squeezed gently, and smiled across at him. “Angel…” he murmured quietly. Just the one word, he’d used countless times before, but it was enough. It said everything they needed to say for now.

So they’d walked home hand in hand, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They’d gone back to Aziraphale’s bookshop, to the flat above, and kissed. Slow and soft and long, caressing and stroking, whispering and kissing some more. Thousands of years of unspoken words of love spilling out onto each other’s skin in touches that lit each other aflame.

They’d made love, a sweet gentle softness, a joining of bodies that had yearned for each other for far too long. Aziraphale had melted under the skilled caresses of Crowley’s hands, drawing gasps of pleasure from his lover with every touch. Crowley’s breath hot on his trembling skin. His tongue taking the angel to heavenly realms he’d never glimpsed before. The demon possessed a tenderness that Aziraphale could never even have imagined in a body so damned, gentler than any angel in existence.

It had all come so naturally. Crowley worshipped his angel. He’d always doted on him, so that was nothing new, but it became more obvious, and he no longer tried to shrug it off as mere friendship. Aziraphale enjoyed the new, comfortable closeness. That Crowley would wind his arm around his waist as they walked together, and occasionally pull him close into a kiss in a shameless public display of affection. Every time he did so, Aziraphale felt a delicious little thrill down his spine.

He'd gone his entire existence being forbidden from experiencing love for himself. Then the entire time he and Crowley had known each other, they hadn’t been able to show physical affection either. Crowley was making up for lost time. He wanted the entire world to know this angel belonged to _him_ , and him _alone_.

And damn if Aziraphale wasn’t finding that he absolutely, positively, got off on that fact.

After millennia of being touch starved, gaslit and made to feel worthless, he finally had someone who worshipped the very ground he walked on, and wasn’t afraid to let the world know it. Aziraphale was positively glowing with the attention, and relishing being an absolutely smug bastard about it to boot.

He got particularly riled up when Crowley made one of his little public demonstrations of possession over him, and as time went on, he found himself occasionally provoking them a little. He might make eye contact a little too long with a handsome waiter to encourage a smile or a flirt, just so that Crowley would pull him closer and kiss him fiercely for the entire restaurant to see.

It was especially rewarding when they got home, or just back to the car, and Crowley would become so wild in his lovemaking, so beautifully savage that it’d have the angel coming faster, harder, more intense and more frequently than ever. He craved it.

* * *

Crowley was no idiot either. He began to piece together exactly what his bastard angel was getting up to, and why.

He lay next to his beautiful bastard in bed, stroking the fine blonde curls on his chest and contemplating his profile with a lazy smile. “You like it when I’m rough with you, Angel?” he murmured, amused. Aziraphale tipped his head sideways to meet his gaze, a flicker of guilt passing across his expression. “It’s ok if you do, I just want to know if you want more.” Crowley purred, his hand drifting lower, a frankly devilish smile on his lips. Aziraphale raised his eyebrows hopefully.

“Y… yes, I rather think I would, if you’d be amenable” he managed, as Crowley teased his cock with skilled fingers. “You know you don’t have to be afraid of hurting me, dearest.”

Crowley grinned and licked his lips. “Oh I know. What is it that you enjoy about it the most then? Indulge me.” He hoisted himself up and slithered down until he was between Aziraphale’s legs, then began lavishing attention on his stiffening cock with his tongue, watching him curiously from under dark brows, waiting for an answer. Aziraphale gaped for a moment. Crowley licked around his bollocks. “Is it…” _lick_ “…being helpless, perhaps?” _lick_.

Aziraphale tipped his head on one side in a thoughtful manner. “Partly, perhaps.”

Another lick. “The thrill…” _lick_ “… of being caught by a demon?” _lick_.

The angel shrugged. That wasn’t exactly it.

“Then perhaps…” _lick_ “…being _possessed_ by one?” _lick_ “… being _owned_ by one?”

Aziraphale shuddered and stilled, and his eyes said it all. Nonetheless he nodded, biting his lip.

“You want me to _own_ you, to _possess_ every part of you, to make you **_mine_ **?” Crowley hissed, his hands digging into the angel’s soft thighs just hard enough to be on the edge of pleasure and pain, hard enough to bruise.

Aziraphale moaned out an affirmative and his hips flinched upwards. Crowley grinned. He had his answer now. He sucked down greedily on the angel’s cock and sent him into a frenzy of writhing expletives. Crowley carried on, unrelenting, working Aziraphale hard and fast, gripping his thighs tightly. He kept his tongue moving frenetically until he felt the angel tense up in a spasm and spurt down the demon’s throat, before he lifted off. “Very well. If that’s what you want, Angel, that’s what you’ll get.” He crawled on all fours up Aziraphale’s body, grabbed his wrists and pinned them firmly above his head, staring down at him like a cat playing with its prey, considering his next move.

Crowley bent down and licked up Aziraphale’s jaw, up his cheek to his ear, which he nipped and then hissed into. “Time for a change of scenery I think.” He ran his hand down over the angel’s softening cock, pushing forth a little demonic power. Aziraphale had only ever changed his own effort, he’d never had it done _for_ him. His body naturally pushed back at the demonic force, but he willed it to comply, to _submit_ , and felt his crotch changing under Crowley’s hand, diminishing and then deepening, until the demon’s fingers were probing between the lips of a new vulva. “You can get so many more orgasms out of one of these, Angel, just you wait…”

Crowley stood up and gazed down at his prey laid out, vulnerable, on the bed before him. He snapped his fingers and caught the black silk scarves that fell from the air before him. He stalked to the head of the bed and roughly grabbed one of Aziraphale’s wrists, then tied it firmly to the bed frame. He slunk around to the other side and repeated the action, before prowling back down to the foot of the bed, his eyes aglow with fierce desire. His teeth became slightly more fang-like and he licked his tongue across them and bit his lip, considering his possession.

Aziraphale gazed up at him, rapt. Crowley’s lithe frame with long lean musculature was lit beautifully by the moonlight through the bedroom window, light rippling across his graceful form. He was truly moving like a predator right now, pacing back and forth, a hungry look in his eyes, a suspicion of claws at the end of his long fingers, and a distinctly feral look in his eyes. There was a suggestion that he was holding himself back, working up to the point where he would give himself permission to let go, to release his inner demonic aspect. He just had to be absolutely sure he wasn’t going to hurt his angel.

Aziraphale levelled a serious look at him. He could see his lover holding himself back, there was uncertainty hidden there. “Amber.” Aziraphale snapped suddenly, and Crowley halted in his tracks, eyes wide. Aziraphale sat up, and forcefully yanked both arms forward, breaking the bed frame in one easy movement. He rose to his knees, plunged to the end of the bed and grabbed Crowley by the waist, dragging him forward and off balance. He growled in his face. “Just to prove that I can get out of this any time I damn well want, now fuck me, demon.” He lay back and snapped his fingers. The bedframe mended, and his arms were tied back up to it. Crowley stared and swallowed. “Green”. Aziraphale announced, and snapped his mouth shut again.

Crowley nodded, stiffly. It’d take him a moment to get his head back in the game after that show of force from the angel. He drew a breath and lowered his brows, crinkling his nose in a snarl at the angel now re-tied to the bed. He snapped his fingers and swapped the black silk for chains. It didn’t make the slightest difference to be honest, as it was the frame that had broken, but it was for the look of the thing. Aziraphale had the decency to at least look worried, although Crowley knew damn well he wasn’t really.

The demon prowled back and forth a little more, hands flexing, teeth bared, then shook his glossy black wings out, mantling them above his head in an aggressive display. He snarled and pounced on Aziraphale, one clawed hand either side of his head, his face close to the angel’s own, noses almost touching. He growled deep in his chest, a low threatening rumble that shook the bed and made Aziraphale’s eyes roll back in his head with desire.

“Thisss is what I always wanted, to capture an angel of my very own, to do with what I wanted, to be my little…. plaything….” Crowley hissed at him, and drew a claw down Aziraphale’s jawline. He darted his head down and slurped a long lick up Aziraphale’s pale throat, tongue lingering on his jugular, feeling the pulse there, the flow of hot sweet blood just under the skin, then carried on licking upward, tasting his salt-sweat skin, then captured the angel’s mouth in a fierce, hard kiss, tongue probing deep. The kiss was crushing, bruising, and everything the angel secretly wanted it to be. He drew back. “What, no struggling? No fighting back? Not much of an angel, are you?”

Aziraphale hesitated a moment, then murmured “Amber, love. Not that wording. Green.” Crowley nodded and kissed him more gently. Aziraphale bucked his hips up and writhed under the demon, an expression of distaste on his features. Crowley laughed and pinned him down easily with strong arms. “None of that, Angel. You’re mine now, and I’m going to do what I want with you, whether you like it or not.” He darted his head forward again and bit sharply at his neck, making Aziraphale gasp out at the sensation. He carried on alternating sucking love bites, marking his territory all the way down the angel’s neck, collarbones and chest, with sharp nips and harder bites, leaving teeth marks. Aziraphale writhed and cried out with each one.

Crowley shimmied down Aziraphale’s torso, scratching lightly as he went, and shoved his thighs apart, licking and biting at them indiscriminately, then plunged between them to lap at the angel’s wet vulva, tongue delving deep, extending into a more skilled serpentine length with which to drive his prize into a frenzy. This wasn’t so much foreplay as teasing and owning, doing it because he could. Crowley growled harder then licked and sucked on Aziraphale’s clit making him howl. He reflexively twitched his hips up, but Crowley’s strong hands shoved him hard back down onto the bed and he bit at his tender inner thigh in warning. “Behave” he growled, once again making Aziraphale quiver with lust at the reverberating sound. He whimpered needily.

The demon had had enough waiting, he surged up the angel’s body and crushed his lips into a vicious kiss again, lined up his aching cock with his dripping wet slit and plunged forward in one smooth, savage motion, burying himself to the hilt with a satisfied gasp as Aziraphale cried out in pleasure. Crowley rolled his hips in a steady motion, pressing himself close to the angel, covering his neck and shoulders with more possessive bites – quick, hungry jabs of sharp teeth and want. He then picked up the pace and began plunging in, hips snapping back and forth, slapping their bodies together hard, his hands gripping the angel’s soft waist firmly, pulling himself in deep, grunting with the effort. He didn’t hold back one iota.

Aziraphale writhed against his bonds and moaned, desperate to claw back at Crowley, losing his mind with the intoxicating sensation of being filled so utterly, so completely, being stretched and pounded and utterly ravished. He became incoherent and gasped out insensible syllables as Crowley crushed him close and clawed at him, bit him, his wings a dark steadying counterbalance above them, mantling possessively as if to conceal the demon’s prize from covetous eyes. Aziraphale felt his muscles tensing, quivering with imminent release, and then suddenly he was shaking with a bone-deep orgasm that made him cry out as his body spasmed, clutching tight around Crowley’s length sunk deep within him.

Crowley rode the orgasm out, feeling the gush of sweet wetness around him and pounding on regardless, thrusting as deep and hard as he could, hot, sweaty and greedy for more. He was grunting into Aziraphale’s skin with every brutal thrust: “mine… mine… _mine_ …” his bites growing more bestial as he allowed his demonic aspect freedom to act as it pleased. Kept so tightly bottled for so long, he was an explosion of pent up lust and desire being unleashed on the one being in the universe who could properly take it and survive.

Aziraphale was gasping up at him “yours, yours my love, please take me Crowley, make me yours, always yours, please…”

Crowley was grunting with his teeth now fully lengthened into viciously sharp fangs, bared by snarling lips, his own orgasm building fast, and he crushed his angel close and sunk his teeth deep into his shoulder with a deep and final “ **_Mine_ **!” as he came, pulsing his release deep inside the angel’s hot depths. Aziraphale cried out, shaking, feeling venom sinking into his shoulder with a slight burning sensation, his eyes wide in shock. He relished the pain, breathing hard into Crowley’s short red hair, seeing the glossy black wings twitching and shuddering above him with the effort of his orgasm before collapsing down to cover them both.

Crowley was shaking and breathing hard. He stilled suddenly, frozen in fear. He opened his eyes and tried to release his grip on Aziraphale’s shoulder as gently as possible, he drew back in shock. “Oh shit. Oh Aziraphale, oh _fuck_ , I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” He was staring at the envenomated bite mark there. “What the fuck have I _done_? Oh shit, oh shit…” He licked desperately at the injury, trying to soothe it, but there was a snap that hadn’t come from him, the clatter of metal hitting the floor, then Aziraphale’s arms were around him, stroking him.

“It’s ok, Crowley, it’s fine, I wanted it, you gave me exactly what I wanted my love, it was beautiful, please don’t fret…”

Crowley pulled out and sat up abruptly. “No, it’s not fine, I went too far, I’m so sorry, Aziraphale, I took it too far. What the fuck am I going to do? _Shit_ .” He ran his hands through his hair. His claws and fangs dissipated away. He shook his wings out of sight and looked desperately around the room. “ _Fuck_.”

Aziraphale was concerned. He sat up on one elbow and reached out to his lover. “It’s fine Crowley, really, it doesn’t hurt.”

Crowley shook his head. “No, it’s not like the others, I let go too much, it was the fangs, there’s fucking venom in there, Aziraphale, not deadly stuff, but… what happens if I’m, well, mating I guess. I’ve never let it happen before, never, but you just… I… I couldn’t stop it, I was so bound up in it all I forgot myself, I didn’t keep that part of myself locked up, I’m so sorry.”

“What do you mean, Crowley?” Aziraphale was worried by the demon’s anxiety over a simple bite that his angelic resilience was already healing over. True, it was a supernatural injury so it’d scar, unlike mundane injuries, but he didn’t care, it’d be hidden under the collar of his shirt. Crowley hadn’t left any marks where they’d show. He quite liked it already.

Crowley looked at him, concern etched into every line of his face. “I marked you, Aziraphale” he said, quietly. “It’s permanent. It’s supernatural. It’s a mark of ownership. Everyone will know you’re, well… mine, forever. Demons will be able to smell it, you’re under my personal protection now, which I guess is no bad thing, but what if the angels smell it too? Humans will have some vague sense to leave you alone, but angels? What the fuck did I do Aziraphale? I can’t undo it, I…”

He covered his eyes and rocked back and forth. He’d never meant to take it this far, he’d fucked up, Aziraphale wasn’t something to own, he was the love of his life, not a possession. Playing was fine but this was too much. Tears welled up in his eyes and he crushed the palms of his hands into his burning eyes to try to stem the flow, seeing stars in the blackness behind his eyelids at the pressure.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale’s voice was sharp with harmonic tones of celestial power that cut straight through the demon’s misery and dragged him forcibly back to the present with an icy bolt of terror down his spine. He dropped his hands, feeling like he had zero option not to do so, and looked up at the angel glowing before him. “Crowley, you are _not_ to apologise for something that I specifically _demanded_ that you do.” His expression was firm, and frankly terrifying. Crowley whimpered under his stern gaze.

Aziraphale held his gaze a little longer before relenting, and sweeping the distraught demon into his arms, kissing his face gently. “I love you Crowley, and I told you that I wanted to be yours, and only yours. If what you’ve done is a permanent sign of that, I couldn’t be prouder, my love. _Especially_ if it’s a big supernatural ‘F you’ to everyone, because frankly my dear, that turns me on.” He grinned and kissed the demon hard. “I’m yours, Crowley, forever. Thank you.”

Crowley finally relaxed into his angel’s embrace, and met his questing lips with his own. “I love you, _my_ Angel.” He whispered with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want more similar steamy sex (and comedy), and my twist on alpha/omega *style* stuff, try “Shake a tail feather” here: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/22975597>


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